


The Antinous Complex

by 100dabbo



Category: The Odyssey - Homer
Genre: Anal Sex, Ancient Greece, Angst and Porn, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Bruises, Canon-Typical Violence, Cheating, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Face Punching, Face Slapping, Fist Fights, Heavy Angst, Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, Power Dynamics, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Secret Crush, Secret Relationship, Suitor Typical Behaviour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo
Summary: The Antinous Complex: A lord's desire to be simultaneously subjugated beneath another man's control and retain his dignity. Often fruitless.
Relationships: Eurymachus/Antinous
Kudos: 5





	The Antinous Complex

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most niche ship I have ever had, so I doubt many people will be reading this, but if you're here, enjoy it lol :)

It wasn’t long after Dawn had mounted her golden throne that Antinous awoke in his perfumed room, sheets like waves around his bare white ankles. He got up to slip his fine clothes over his body and make his way to the hall where the rest of the Ithacan lords had already found their first meal of the day. 

Before he noticed the spread of delicacies and freshly cooked slaughter on the shining platters, his eyes found their way onto the son of Polybus who was already indulging himself in the pleasures of the feast, stood right beside Amphinomus.

The second Eurymachus lifted his head to see Eupeithes’ son, his eyes tracked down his frame and a tilt of his chin was offered as a beckon. The lord took it and once he had finally arrived at his fellow suitor’s side, the man’s amicable countenance dropped and replaced itself with a cold sneer,

“How nice of you to join us at this hour, Antinous.” The pupils set in his cool blue irises were like pinpricks. “Surely for your hunger you will not hesitate to take up some meat and wine with us.”

The tone he used aggravated Antinous, but he resisted launching at him and clattering his plate to the floor to tackle him down into the dust; it was only for his exhaustion that he refrained. He glanced over at the feast and picked up a haunch, sinking his teeth into the flesh and tearing it away without grace to chew it. Eurymachus’ eyes did not leave their fixation on his lips for the whole time. Once it was swallowed, Antinous used his words,

“And you, Eurymachus, surely for your size and stature will not hesitate to refrain from being a little prick on this fine and glorious morning that Zeus has sent us.”

Polybus’ son threw the man a black look before snarling and grasping his shoulders, shoving him onto the floor and towering above him like a ruthless titan. The other Suitors heard the commotion and turned their heads to watch the fight, excitement bubbling in their hearts to watch a brawl between two men. 

On the floor, Antinous looked up at Eurymachus and smirked, noticing his pupils change and expand; deeper and darker, ready for a fight. He would have landed a harsh blow on one of Antinous’ soft rose cheeks to bruise it a pallid purple were it not for Amphinomus pulling him off. Few Suitors cared to continue watching once the lord was restrained and they returned to their conversations, though Amphinomus couldn’t help but scold the two of them for their incredulous behaviour.

“What is wrong with you two?!” He hissed, “Are we not brothers in this hall? Are we not all friends here?” The two suitors merely furrowed their brows and avoided one another’s gaze. “When we first came to this splendid palace with the hopes of marrying the late king’s wife, back when the Ithacan fields were never filled with such plenty of crops and endless livestock, the two of you were the best of friends.” He paused to look at them, their eyes swimming with thoughts of the past and the pleasant times they all shared on the same ground they stood upon in that moment. Antinous raised his head to look at the other lord; he remained with his gaze on the ground. Amphinomus of Dulichium continued, “There should never be a reason callous or cruel enough for either of you to lay a hand on the other.” He snapped his fingers and a squire of his appeared, seizing a cup of wine for each man and placing them in their hands. He raised his own, “Allow me to drink to the two of you; as friends.”

Their eyes finally met, the fury within them dissipated and clear with a new calmness. Eurymachus raised his cup,

“Being friends.”

“Being friends.” The other repeated, touching the rim of his cup to his lips to slip the dark wine down his throat.

The smile that stretched Amphinomus’ lips was yet to be shared by the two of them, and Eurymachus looked down on Eupeithes’ son with an certain air of discontent, but not outright anger or malice; just enough to convey that his feelings had not yet reached the point of forgiveness. Nobody was to insult him, especially not Antinous. He brushed the dust off his fine clothes and left for his room.

Both Amphinomus and Antinous watched him depart, though it was only Antinous that knew as to why. He explained to his fellow suitor with brevity,

“He desires to speak with me in private, if you’ll excuse me.”

And so Amphinomus watched the man follow the other before returning his attention back onto the feast.

In the portico, where Eurymachus was already well on his way to the guest apartments, Antinous caught a glimpse of the him, and hearing the loud ruckus in the main hall, silently followed; confident their meeting would go unnoticed by the rest.

“Eurymachus!” He called, catching up as the suitor stopped in his tracks. “I would like to say that I-“

Eurymachus began to pivot slowly, the action enough to stop Antinous’ speech. Turning on his heels and deadlocking his eyes with the other man, he narrowed his lids, beginning to advance with a predatory slowness, footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

“You will meet me in my rooms this evening. I’ll hear no more until that time.” He said, gravel-toned and still embittered.

“After the last feast?”

“You will leave the hall a quarter of an hour after myself. Am I clear?”

“Of course, Eurymachus. I’ll be there.”

“Until then.”

Polybus’ son reached his rooms after the feast to sit down in his wooden chair; his eyes concentrated on the doorway for the other’s arrival, his legs resting akimbo. He didn’t have to look back while he was walking to know he would eventually follow, nor did he have to listen out for any footsteps in the echoing halls to see if he would indeed come; Antinous’ keen spirit was never one to ignore an opportunity Eurymachus had offered. So, when the suitor stepped up to the threshold minutes later, Eurymachus’ stern countenance was unfazed, and his legs only spread farther apart.

“I’ve come to apologise.” Said Eupeithes’ son, avoiding the cold blue eyes.

“Is that true?” The other countered with an accent of suspicion, rapping his fingertips on the polished wooden armrest. Antinous took short paces forward, ready to drop the stubborn act and atone for his action like a man, until Eurymachus opened his mouth once more, “Is it entirely true that a young… _man_ like yourself would do such a thing without ulterior motive?”

Antinous was tense and he knew the other would notice if his knuckles turned white, though the question to his maturity was an insult he wasn’t sure he could recover from so quickly. He walked close enough for Eurymachus to crane his neck upwards to remain with met eyes.

“Yes.” Came his answer, short enough to avoid the flow of curses he was conjuring in his head to break through and ruin the apology. Eurymachus just smiled and hummed a low note.

“Kneel in front of me.” He commanded with the sly smile wrinkling his cheeks, his head drooping as he followed the suitor’s descent onto his knees, shoulders parallel to his thighs. Leaning down and bracing his palms on those thighs, he stated his next instruction, “Say it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry for what?” He goaded; wide, smiling eyes locked on the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry, Eurymachus, son of Polybus, for calling you a little prick.”

Eurymachus’ hand flew and slapped the other suitor on the cheek, stinging it with spiking pain and blooming it a tinge of red and pink. The smile continued to adorn his lips as he grabbed Antinous by his nape to pull him even closer, their faces close enough to feel the breathing, gentle exhale through their noses. Tension stewed as he maintained the silence, feeling the beating, rapid pulse in Antinous’ neck on his fingertips, though the man’s stoic face didn’t betray him for a second.

“Yes, you are, aren’t you?” He consoled with a new sympathy, stroking the short hairs on the man’s head before closing his eyes and leaning in with his lips, their mouths latching in a sweet and gentle kiss.

When he pulled away, Polybus’ son leant back into the chair, still retaining a firm grasp on the back of Antinous’ neck. He looked up, now meeting with the piercing blue eyes, awaiting the next command. Surely enough, Eurymachus provided it,

“You’re going to show it to me; how sorry you are. Do you understand me?”

Antinous grit his teeth. He knew where it was going to lead from there. Still, he offered a protest firmly,

“Why?” It was said like a statement of his irritation rather than a question, “I’ve already apologised enough, have we not reconciled to the point of forgiveness?”

Eurymachus looked down through his eyelashes and took his lip between his teeth, waiting for a beat, then countering the suitor’s question,

“No, because, in the simplest way of putting it… well…” He trailed away from his words, stifling a laugh, and settling with a smirk, all the while keeping the grip on Antinous. The man on his knees said nothing and waited obediently. “Well, Antinous, son of Eupeithes, you are my bitch.” 

Antinous flinched at the word, attempting to escape the hand of his fellow suitor, though the second he moved, Eurymachus’ free hand shoved down on his right shoulder, keeping him in his place, right where he was wanted. He refused to say anything and only struggled more, until a palm struck the same cheek as before, though bitterly more intense than the last blow.

“Say it with me now, ‘I’m your bitch’… You can do it.” The man coerced. He was replied with a shaking of the head and snarl. “No?” Eurymachus sank his teeth back into his lips, sharp canines dimpling the soft flesh. “No. Sounds like a no at least.” The man kneeling before him only furrowed his brow as he listened in silence. “You’re just going to make me monologue then? Alright, Antinous, that’s fine by me. I prefer my _bitches_ to be quiet.”

He resumed the stroking of Antinous’ hair, lacing his fingers through the thick brown locks that fell just short of his jaw, and smiled warmly, “Are you ready to show me then?”

The son of Eupeithes closed his eyes and wet his lips, coating them with his tongue in a slow swipe. He nodded. Another affirmative hum came from Eurymachus as he hitched up his clothes to expose himself, tightening his hand and coaxing Antinous closer and closer until his soft lips made contact with the base.

A quiet groan escaped the man while Antinous continued upwards, dragging those soft lips up to the head and descending smoothly to let it slide across his tongue and through his throat, coating his warm saliva around it until it was stiff and firm; poking into his cheek.

He took his mouth away and stared up and into his licentious eyes, swimming with lust and brimming with desire. It was clear it wasn’t just fellatio that was required for Antinous’ apology, which became even more apparent as Eurymachus leant back down to join their lips again, chasing his tongue in languid swirls then pulling away to stand above him.

“What are you, Antinous?” Was the question he posed as he stripped off his clothes, throwing them down at the lord’s knees. In his nakedness, he stood above, waiting patiently for a response. Though Antinous’ pride would never crack so easily.

“I am the son of an Ithacan lord and suitor to the late king’s wife.”

Somewhere behind his smile, Eurymachus was angered at the disobedience, though the emotion did not penetrate his countenance for a second. But what his actions reflected were different.

He seized Antinous’ throat, thumb and forefinger tensed beneath the jaw, and as the man kicked and writhed in his grip with cheeks flaring red, he was flung onto his bed and pinned him there by his slender wrists.

His legs spread of their own accord and wrapped themselves around Eurymachus’ waist, pulling him closer, their chests pressing together while the hand tightened at his throat; squeezing on his windpipe with strong fingers to force out a choked cry, like the wail of a wounded man in battle. It was kept there until it grew tired, and Eurymachus withdrew it to begin grasping at Antinous’ clothes.

Eupeithes’ son took the opportunity to catch his breath while he was piece by piece stripped bare and thrown further back onto the bed, his bruised wrists weakened to the point where resistance, if it was truly wanted, was futile. He spread his body across the abundance of yielding, perfumed cushions while the lord loomed over him, gradually stooping himself lower and lower. Their faces grew closer and the son of Polybus repeated his question,

“What are you, Antinous?”

And he took the man’s lips between his teeth, pulling gently for a moment then letting go to stare into his eyes with a cold glare. When Antinous refused to reply, opting to keep himself mute in avoidance of another thrash of his cheek, Eurymachus made his hands gentle again and stoked his fingertips over the bruises forming over the supple skin of his throat. He tsked and let his heavy eyes drift to his lips, his fingers gliding back across the skin to grasp his cheeks, making the lips pout.

“Say it.”

There was a faint shaking of his head and Eurymachus pushed his face away, leaning back up, settling more comfortably between the stretched-out legs.

“If you’re not saying it, I’m going in without preparation. Is that what you want, you little brat?”

Another silence followed, which was eventually broken by Eurymachus and his low chuckle. His leaking tip pressed against the tight entrance of the other man and he dipped back down towards Antinous’ face. The son of Eupeithes made one last plea; his accent designed with a purposeful salaciousness,

“Eurymachus… You know in your heart that I’m sorry, but I’d never deign to call myself such a thing.”

The other man pouted, his mocking tone an insult to Antinous’ best efforts,

“Oh, ‘you’re sorry’…” He switched to a venomous hiss, “Well then, why don’t you be a good little bitch and take it?”

And he leant into the crook of Antinous’ slender neck, then without reticence, thrusted himself into the man like a warrior and the jab of his shining bronze spear into his enemy, deep and fatal to encourage out the last groan of life before departure to death.

And Antinous did groan, though it was of pleasurable pain, and his head threw back onto the cushions and his teeth bared in an enduring grimace, sucking in air sharply as he winced and clenched, fingernails digging in and scratching at the back of the man above. Eurymachus couldn’t help but grin wider as he heard it and latched his lips to Antinous’ newly accessible throat, sucking and licking on the fresh bruises that were already dotting the pale skin like a violaceous mosaic on marble.

And though he did like it - the sharp and aching pain - it was almost too unbearable for the son of Eupeithes to bear, and so despite his pride and arrogance, words slipped out of him through a venomous hiss,

“I’m your bitch!” 

His cry did not fall on deaf ears and the man above drifted away from his throat, his lips smiling wickedly and jovial eyes dancing with mischief.

“That’s right.” He twisted the knife deeper into his ego, “I knew you would say it.” Eyes narrowed on Antinous’ scarlet cheeks and strong fingers tightened on his wrist. He thrusted his hips forward again, a callous and cruel action that caused another wail to escape from the guttural depths of Antinous’ throat.

“Oi- O –“ He panted helplessly into the ear of Polybus’ son, “Oi –“

“What’s that?” The man condescended with another sharp drive, “Oil?”

Antinous had never nodded so emphatically to confirm it, and his body sighed once Eurymachus withdrew, bending over his bed to reach for his oil and slicking it onto his palm. He rubbed his length, passing his palm up and down as his eyes locked back into the deep, lustful pupils of Antinous,

“Say it again.”

Antinous’ brow furrowed, and in his stupidity, answered incorrectly,

“Oil?”

The oil coated palm struck against his damask cheek, and with the shock of it, the knowledge came to him and, after a pause of hesitation, he repeated it with haste,

“I’m Eurymachus’ bitch...”

And once it was said, the son of Polybus pounced back onto him, pressing his lips onto the hot oiled cheek, down to the jaw and neck until they drifted back to re-join on his lips with devouring and harsh kisses; harsh enough to make them red and raw if he were to continue. 

He backed away soon enough to look back on the man and wrinkle his cheeks that same smile.

“Turn over.” He commanded, watching with contentment as he saw the other man blink slowly and then shift his weight, rotating his hips with a slow reluctance for his chest to lay flat on the cushions. 

One hand snaked across his thigh and up to his hip, while the other grasped into his locks. That hard length pushed against his curve and pressed in, slipping inside with more comfort and ease and causing the simultaneous release of moans; Antinous’ of a breathless, gasping strain while he gripped to the cushions and curled his toes and Eurymachus’ of a deeper tone, his hands balling into fists that pushed into the mattress as he was gripped by tightness and warmth. 

He cursed and blasphemed shamelessly, hissing into Antinous’ ear as his body started to rock against him, all of his might driving into him, building up a vicious rhythm.

“Eurymachus!” The man below him hissed into the cushion, his head throwing back and arching his spine, giving Eurymachus perfect access to that pale throat again where his rough hands could grasp and angle him upwards. His lips pressed back onto it to lap at the skin, sucking to exact a blissful pleasure and accompany the divine drives in the most perfect way. Antinous felt his own pre-ejaculate begin to dribble onto the sheets; the combination of the man slamming into him and the scrape of his teeth and tongue on his skin enough to make his moans a bawdy ruckus.

Meanwhile, Eurymachus, who was focused on both the thrusting power of each slam into the man and the ruining of the beautiful porcelain skin beneath his lips, spent every other second detaching his lips, murmuring a combination of expletives; ‘bitch’, ‘cunt’, ‘fucker’ and ‘prick’ all expelled in breathless whispers.

Antinous scratched at the pillows like a desperate captive, though instead of freedom he was fighting for, it was subordination he was clawing at; the need to be punished, the need to be corrected for his wrongs like the bitch he was, and he was prepared to verbalise it too,

“Fuck me like I’m your bitch, Eurymachus!” He begged with a scream, feeling the approach of his climax advance on him with speed, his body shuddering under the man, his muscles tensing as he attempted to warn the other suitor, “I’m going to finish!”

Eurymachus said nothing, unable to care less about Antinous’ progression to completion, solely concentrated on his own pleasure as he let his lips go from their grip of his neck and his strong hands pushed his body down flat onto the bed, relishing in the tightness of him while he came in a wail, fists balled into the pillows and eyes screwed tightly shut.

The sensory overload left him shaking beneath Eurymachus, cursing beneath his breath as that length kept plunging deep inside of him, hitting his sweet spot on each drive.

Then, Eurymachus snarled, his breaths gaining more and more speed, grunting from each forceful push until he came with a deep groan inside, digging his fingers sharply into the muscle of the other man’s fleshy curve.

“Fuck.” He said in his deep tone before carefully pulling himself out, kneeling above the son of Eupeithes to look down at his work.

The flesh all around the man’s waist was red raw with claw marks and the imprint of fingers, the smooth skin of his throat was corrupted by that mouth of his and spread with deep purple polkas and his chestnut hair lay tousled and tangled over his head. “Turn back around.” He commanded, and he was obeyed without a word, Antinous slowly turning himself onto his back, his own sticky spoils a white string connecting the soft sheets to the pink slit of his softening length. 

Eurymachus smiled wide to see it, biting his lips as his eyes processed the beauteous image before him. He dipped his body down between Antinous’ legs, letting his lips graze across the other man’s mouth and hum contentedly with his efforts. 

“See,” He whispered, “in the end, you always are a good little bitch for me, aren’t you?”

Antinous nodded weakly with a rock of his head, his eyes still closed in the bliss of the never-ending afterglow. Then, when Eurymachus’ thumb touched to that sensitive slit on the head of his still throbbing member, he pressed into it, smearing his spoils around as the man whined and arched his back, opening his mouth to let the noise out. That thumb pressed down on this tongue, forcing him to taste his own ejaculate, and he couldn’t help but close his lips around it to obediently take whatever Eurymachus gave him. 

The other man slowly withdrew his thumb from that hot mouth and he gently lay down in the bed beside Antinous, extending his arm out for him to settle into an embrace which was accepted, resting his cheek down on his smooth chest.

“Now,” Eurymachus began as he gazed out of the window, watching Dusk settle below the shoreline and let her pink tresses flow across the sky, “the next time you’re gagging for it,” He turned his stare to those heavy hazel eyes, “there’s no need to be hostile, do you understand Antinous?”

He nodded, unable to help himself nip his lip between his teeth before fluttering his eyes shut with exhaustion. 

As Dawn rose above the wide horizon with a bright golden light, Antinous flickered his eyes open, lashes still heavy and body aching with muscle fatigue. He felt the body of Polybus’ son beside him, that abdomen beneath his palm, that chest under his head rising and falling steadily with each breath. 

It would be a lie for him to ever say there were no feelings caught for the other suitor, the amount of times they’d shared passionate trysts and held longing glances was enough to ensure it, though there wasn’t any proof for Eurymachus to be thinking the same. When he finally stirred, wrapping his arm tighter around Antinous’ shoulder for warmth, he mumbled,

“You’re not going in front of the rest looking like you do. My squire will be bringing you food and drink for the day.” 

So, the son of Eupeithes didn’t argue, and as Eurymachus released the embrace to stand from the bed, shrugging on a new set of clothes and leaving the room for the hall, he couldn’t help but sigh.

Indeed, Eurymachus held up his promise, his squire coming in every other hour with a plate of succulent meats, breads, and wine, though still, the heavy feeling of dismissal from his side wouldn’t shake. He wanted to be with the other Suitors and enjoy his meals in company.

So, in direct disobedience from his command, Antinous stood from his bed, slipping old clothes over his frame, and though he was aching at first, he walked through the empty portico and to the hall, hearing the boisterous noises from the evening feast in the hall and he passed through to find friends.

At first, he only noticed Amphinomus of Dulichium, alone as usual with his own plate, and so approached to ask after the son of Polybus.

“Amphinomus, where’s Eurymachus?” He asked with impatient eyes, ignoring the way the man’s eyes lingered on the bruises of his neck.

“I saw him last going towards to women’s quarters. Being the intelligent man that you are, you surely wouldn’t dare to interrupt him. You of all men in Ithaca know how he’s habitual to violent outbursts.” And his head nodded at his neck, clearly under the impression they were born from their skirmish the previous day.

Saying nothing, the son of Eupeithes walked passed the suitor and made his way to the restricted area of the palace that Amphinomus had reported, walking past the threshold and down the portico, confident he would find him at Penelope’s door with bountiful gifts and wealth. But what he did see was even more pitiful and upsetting, and not for Eurymachus, but more so for himself.

A strong hand traced up and down a bare thigh hitched on a hip, the other had clasped to a slender waist, lips latched onto a mouth that kissed him back.

Eurymachus had Penelope’s servant girl, Melantho, against a wall. Her legs were raised up onto his hips as he pinned her there with force, both of their eyes shut tightly with passion as their mouths devoured each other. Antinous, powerless to do anything and too cowardly to intervene, only let a weak noise escape him, a pitiful sigh that caught their attention.

When those blue eyes locked onto him, he turned back to the hall, disallowing the tears time to well in his eyes as his teeth sank deep into his soft lip, hearing his name echoed off the stone walls.

He got as far as Amphinomus’ side when Eurymachus caught up and his hand grabbed his arm. But as soon as he was turned around with a forceful tug, an attempt on Eurymachus’ behalf to try and explain himself, no matter how feeble it was to be, Antinous’ right hand flew, swinging with unmatched momentum to connect with the man’s red lip, his golden ring catching the skin and bursting it open for blood to flow from the cut as he fell to the floor.

The hall was silent for the first time since nightfall as the son of Polybus lay in the dust.

Antinous only stared down at Eurymachus as he tried to cover his wound with his palm, scarlet blood staining his palm with a brilliant, vibrant red. When those icy blue eyes flicked up, stung with tears of pain, his upper lip twitched with a snarl. He regained his footing without assistance and towered above his assailant. Eyes conveyed all the passionate anger between the pair and without saying a single word, Polybus’ son walked away, hand hiding the bleeding lip from the audience, disgraced.

That night, in his own cold bed with sheets around his ankles, Antinous lay alone with heavy and laboured breaths, weighted with regret and remorse from the events that had transpired just hours ago. 

But, the sting of betrayal in his heart was the only thing he could feel.

**Author's Note:**

> Antinous really said 'bottom rights' and Eurymachus really said 'I'm a power top'
> 
> Thanks for reading if you made it all the way through, I think Homer would be proud of how long this one turned out lol :)


End file.
